


A Shadowed Heart does Beat

by IridulcentDays (BiverbalBuncombe)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hate to Love, M/M, Monster Hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 03:51:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6888817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiverbalBuncombe/pseuds/IridulcentDays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred ponders and comes to terms of the darkness still lingering in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Shadowed Heart does Beat

There were, more often than Alfred would like to admit, times he feared himself. It came with the territory he supposed; karma and such in some twisted way. His brother snored softly and Alfred looked over the edge of his bed. Matthew’s bare feet poked out of the crumpled sheets, his face blocked by the dresser that separated their beds. Alfred rolled over, looking up at the window and the silver moonlight that slithered in. How many times, he wondered to himself, had he seen the warning signs? The slow swelling of aggression and anger that made him grit his teeth. Hunting was becoming dangerous, and it was because of him.

It shouldn’t be that way though. He killed the things that went bump in the night: the things that had souls as dark and muddied as putrid lake water. The things that killed. The things that lived in the shadows. They were creatures, not humans, and killing them shouldn’t have made him so uneasy and upset. It didn’t upset his brother. It didn’t upset their cousin or any of the other hunters he’d met. It shouldn’t upset him. And yet it did. All because he knew he was playing God.

Destroying monsters was what he did. What they did. And that was fine. Usually. He used to get rid of the things that went bump in the night as he came upon them, cleansing them from the earth. But now he was playing God and it made his stomach sick. He was favoring one over the others, letting one live while the others died.

Alfred sat up. The bed creaked and he looked around the one room cabin, glancing at the stupid wooden fish that were nailed to the walls, their stripes and spot muted by the night shadows. He got up, shuffling over to the window and looking out at the lake. It was cloudy and the water looked black. They hadn’t been home for a while, not since Arthur disappeared. Alfred looked over his shoulder instinctually to check on Matthew, watching his chest rise and fall in time with his soft snores before glancing out at the water again.

There was nothing to do right now. The trail was cold and they were tired. They needed a few days to stop and sleep and think. Not that thinking was helping him. Thinking was making him sick. Alfred turned to the door, quiet as he walked across the cold wood floor. The cabin air was too thick and he needed to go get some of the cold night air to stop his head from spinning with all of his thinking.

It was cold outside and his skin prickled with the cool air before he even shut the thick cabin door. Alfred waited for a moment, making sure all was quiet in the cabin before he walked down towards the small pier jutting over the inky lake water. There was another reason Alfred wanted to come back. Something he hadn’t told Matt. His stomach turned with guilt again and he looked down at the water’s edge, listening to the creaks of the dock and the soft susurration of the tall grass by the shore. He shivered and stared at the water. Slipping out of his shirt, Alfred stripped. He pulled his shirt off slowly, reluctant to leave the warm cotton. He quickly pulled off his boxers too, embarrassed despite knowing no one was watching the lake at 3 am, and sat on the rough wood of the dock and dipped his legs into the water.

The water gurgled quietly, lapping against the shore and pillars as Alfred shivered and stared out at the black water. It was quiet and Alfred looked back to the house while stirring his feet through the cold water slowly. Two hands grabbed his ankles, ripping him down and under into the water. His mouth filled with lake water as he gasped in surprise; back stinging from being grated against the wood of the dock. The hands held him with a bruising force, dragging him so quick through the water that it hurt to try to open his eyes.

As suddenly as he had been pulled under, Alfred could feel the hands throwing him towards the surface and he violently surfaced with a guttural gasp of air. He coughed out the water, fingers blindly clawing out at grabbing slimy plastic. He coughed again, turning around and rubbing the water away from his eyes. He was under a dock, and he coughed a final time while angrily thumping the plastic dock above him before looking angrily at the owner of the hands. “You could have warned me,” he growled.

Violet eyes were narrowed, peering just above the line of the water. The cool purple glow they emitted was enough for Alfred to see the hands coming up out of the water, white as porcelain but as strong as iron clamps and bit his tongue to stop the flinch as the hand held his jaw. “You came looking for me,” came the reply.

“Yeah, well I might not come if you keep wrenching me down into the water like you’re trying to drown me, Ivan.”

The violet eyes blinked with reptilian likeness, like an alligator, and the hands moved down Alfred’s shoulders, pushing him down further into the water until the cold water reached his ears. “One day I might.”

“You won't,” Alfred said, smiling smugly despite how fast his heart was racing. The water was making everything feel numb and his teeth clattered on the last consonant.

“Not today,” Ivan amended and pulled away, watching Alfred with those ethereal eyes and he shivered again.

“Cold,” Alfred mumbled into the water. “I’ve been busy,” he answered the silent question, noting how the violet eyes were still narrowed dangerously.

Ivan’s hands moved too quick to see, and his head was wrenched under the water before he could even hear the splash of water. Ivan clawed at his side, the words echoing though his mind as the water stung the new scratches. Mine, came the hiss and Alfred was painfully shoved against the pillar of the dock. It shuddered above him as he came up for air again, and pushed back furiously.

“I don’t have to keep you alive.” Alfred’s hands gripped just as tightly around Ivan’s forearm, the sudden anger at all of his dark thoughts erupting and pouring out. “I shouldn’t keep you alive. How many people have you killed?”

Ivan grinned a damming smile and he encircled Alfred’s waist, trapping him against the beam and holding him with one arm against his chest and another holding him at the crook of his hip. “I saved you,” Ivan purred, voice quiet and could be barely heard against the lapping water. “I stopped you from drowning that August day,”

“I don’t have to keep you alive,” Alfred said again, kicking out as Ivan’s fingers caressed his back, wrapping a hand around Ivan’s neck.

“So kill me,” Ivan said, waiting for the hand to tense. Alfred shivered and stared back into the glowing violet eyes.

“I will one day.” Alfred said after a moment and pulled his hand away, “I’ll split you in two and burn you until you’re nothing but ash. That’s what you get for killing all those people. ”

Ivan tilted his head, still smiling, pressed his body up close to Alfred and whispered, “And one day I’ll drag you down and smother your face in the muck until all the air has left your lungs and you’re blue and bloated. That’s what you get for killing all of us.” He laughed, licking the edge of Alfred’s ear and pulled back, scraping his sharp nails down Alfred’s back. “I saved you and I enjoy watching you fall from your mighty throne until you’re just as dammed as I am.”

Before Alfred could even spew a curse he was ripped back under the water, dragged by the bruising hands through the water until he slammed into the wood dock once again. He clawed the dock, coughing the water he had swallowed and glared out at the black water. The lake was still and the air near silent except for his labored breath. Alfred crashed a hand into the water, swearing angrily and hoisted himself onto the decking.

He glared out at the black water, dragging his feet up onto the dock and glaring out at the horizon, his fingers gripping his discarded clothes tightly. He was damned for playing God. And he was damned for courting death.


End file.
